by T. S. Ryder
He sat on the floor facing the fire, his back to her, as she tended to his wounds one by one. The sight of the large gashes searing his back made her breath catch in her throat. She lightly touched one of the gashes with an antiseptic swab and felt him wince. She stopped, took a deep breath, and kept going...
He stared into the crackling fire and flinched at her touch. Her soft hand quietly worked its magic on his burning back. The effect of the pills had long worn off and he needed to rest. His body was strong and it would heal eventually. He was more exhausted from emotional strain.
He was relieved that she and the baby were safe. She was his mate now. Nothing would change that. He heard her quietly sobbing as she worked on his back.
“I’m sorry, Erdal,” she whispered, weeping. “You could have easily killed me. Why did you endure all this?” Her voice cracked as she spoke.
“I couldn’t. You are my mate and I had to save you,” he said softly. “I’m sorry that you had to go through it all.”
“Yes, you got me into this mess. But you tried to save my life, too. It was just bad luck that we got caught,” she said as she rubbed the ointment on his wounds and wrapped gauze around his chest.
He turned and gazed into her warm, brown eyes. They glowed in the firelight as she looked up at him. He saw a world of innocence there, and the depth of her guilt became almost tangible to him. He sensed something more, too – a pull he felt toward her. It charged the air between them. His emerald eyes grew darker...
“You should rest. I... I’ll get some wine. It will help,” she said, her mouth dry. She quickly got up and put the box away as she moved toward the kitchen.
Her stomach twisted and she felt desire pool deep inside her belly as she poured a glass of wine for him. She couldn’t deny the strange pull she felt toward him or the fact that he had chosen her; he had sacrificed everything.
She handed him the glass and put the bottle aside once she was back in the den. He took a swig and then gazed at her, still brooding. She sat across from him on the rug. She was unlike any woman he had known. He was responsible for her, and, strangely enough, she had turned out to be his destined mate. As she gazed at him with those clear, brown eyes, he thanked the gods that she was safe with him there. Now, when he looked at her, he saw she was so different from Kira.
Kira was tough and a fighter. She was a born leader. This woman was incredibly different – almost unusual. She seemed so fragile and delicate, yet she was more brave and stubborn than many he had encountered. She was a gentle human, and when she looked at him, there was this strange light in her eyes. It was the light of her fiery spirit which he found so alluring.
“You should regularly take the breathing pills I gave you,” he said. “It will take a while before your body adjusts to the atmosphere here.”
“Okay,” she said. “Have you lived here all your life?” she asked him.
He took another swig, draining his glass, and she poured more for him.
“Yeah, mostly,” he said, as he stared into the fire. “I was a slave once, many years ago. My master found me in a crashed aircraft on the outskirts of a city. I don’t remember how I ended up there. I couldn’t even remember my name. They found this recording in the debris that gave away my name.”
“And you never tried to look for your real family?” she asked him, as she gazed at him.
“No. Never got a chance. As a slave, you serve your master in the arena. I trained in sword fighting and became a gladiator. You either kill or be killed,” he said, taking another swig.
She was silent as she peered at him.
“How old are you, Erdal?” she asked him.
“I’m three hundred and five. We Darrenkar can live up to five hundred years,” he said, amused at her shocked expression.
“Wow! You are old. How do you manage to look so young?” she asked incredulously.
“Apparently we stop aging after thirty-five,” he said, a smile tugging at the corner if his lips.
“Lucky you,” she said softly. “So how did you end up here?”
“Killing. I was good at it. I was recruited into the king’s royal guard and I eventually became his mercenary.”
He paused and gazed at her. She was quiet and he saw she was thinking about what he said, trying to understand it.
“Then, my wife was killed… by humans,” he said, eyes locked upon hers. She winced, blinking rapidly.
“Oh... You had a wife,” she said, her cheeks flushing red. She stared at the fire, wringing her hands.
“And now you know why I despise humans,” he said.
“You must really hate me, then,” she said, in a quiet voice. “And yet, you still tried to save my life. Why?” She looked at him with wonder in her eyes.
“You remind me of her,” he whispered. “She looked so much like you.”
“So all this time you were thinking about her.” Her voice shrank as tears pooled in her eyes.
“No. Maybe at first, but you are different, Natalie,” he said softly.
“And you claim to be my mate! You saved me because you saw her in me!” she sobbed, tears streaming down her face. “I thought you loved me...”
Erdal couldn’t understand why she was suddenly so upset. He saw she was clearly hurt.
“Natalie, you don’t understand. She wasn’t my mate. You are!” he said as he moved forward and held her close. “I loved her once, but you are different from her. Natalie, you are a beautiful woman and I love you for who you are.”
Her scent was irresistible. In one swift motion, he claimed her mouth with his own, devouring her. She gasped, unable to catch her breath.
He pulled away and gazed deeply into her warm eyes. He took off the Erasmeth, the silver amulet he wore around his neck, and put it around her own.
“Natalie, will you be my bride?” he asked her, his voice deep with emotion.
She stared at him, still dazed by his passion as she lightly touched the silver pendant.
“Yes,” she whispered after a beat. He thought she was beautiful. No man had ever seen her as beautiful.
She gently stroked the ridges on his temples with her fingertips and saw his eyes darken. His lips were on hers again and his tongue slid into her mouth, grazing hers with a longing that took her breath away. She yielded and wrapped her arms around his neck, running her delicate fingers through his dark hair. His hand stroked her back, tracing her curves and slowly sliding across her waist as he pulled her closer. Pulling away, he leaned back, and then she was on top of him, straddling him.
Desire, deep and dark, surged through his blood as she bent down and claimed his mouth. He loved her taste. It was intoxicating. Soon, the kiss became relentless. Pulling back, he lay back on the rug and gazed at her, admiring her.
“What are you doing to me, woman?”
She saw the darkening storm in his eyes as he slowly peeled her soft dress off her shoulders. It slid to her waist, revealing her full breasts. Her ivory skin glowed warmly in the firelight and her long hair flowed down her bare shoulders and back. She looked like a goddess from a distant dream.
At feeling the bulge in his pants, desire pooled deep down in her belly. Moving back, she helped him take off his pants and gasped. He reminded her of some Greek god as he lay there, and she admired the impressive length of his arousal. She quickly peeled off her panties and straddled him again, loving the feel of him inside of her. He pulled her toward him as he took her mouth again with a fierce passion. She pulled back then as he cupped her breasts with his hands, and, holding his intense emerald gaze, she started moving. Up and down, she built a rhythm, taking him with her as they both moved. Their souls united, singing the song of passion, eternally bound in their own universe.
Chapter Eight
Her breath came in gasps. The garish sun bore down on her, blurring her vision. Her hands were tied behind her and she couldn’t move. A hulking man walked toward her. He carried a whip. She tried to scream, but no sound came out. He raised his ar
m for the first strike, whip in the air. She closed her eyes. She couldn’t breathe...
Natalie woke up with a start. Sunlight streamed in through the windows, warming her face. She lay naked on the rug with Erdal’s hand wrapped across her breasts. She was overheated by his proximity. She turned and saw him sleeping. His alabaster-white skin gleamed in the sunlight. He seemed so peaceful. She lightly trailed a finger over one of the subtle ridges on his temple. She found them fascinating. It was the native mark of the Darrenkar, Zora had said, and the number of ridges increased with age. They circled his skull.
He stirred and opened his eyes, gazing at her.
“Hey, beautiful,” he said, bending over and planting a soft kiss on her lips.
“Morning,” she said and smiled up at him. He loved her lovely smile. The Erasmeth gleamed in the light where it lay at her neck. Taking it in her hand, she gazed at it. “Where did you get this?” she asked.
“The Erasmeth has been in my family for centuries. All I can remember is that it’s an ancient heirloom, and it belonged to my mother,” he said quietly. For the first time, she saw him bare his soul to her. There was profound sadness in his eyes. “And now it’s yours.”
She smiled up at him and, sitting up, she pulled on her dress. She held the Erasmeth in her hand. The silver thing was carved with runes. As she ran her fingers over the runes, they glowed beneath her touch. Then, the Erasmeth clicked open. A rolled piece of paper emerged and she pulled it out.
“I didn’t know it opened.” Erdal sounded surprised and sat up abruptly. Natalie opened the scroll and found strange runes written in an ancient tongue there.
“I think you might be able to read this,” she said, handing him the scroll.
He looked at it and frowned. It was in his tongue and written by hand. He read it aloud.
My Lord,
If you are reading this then it means the time has come. I am writing this with a heavy heart. Both your parents, the king and queen, have been assassinated by the Rok.
My dear boy, remember when you come of age, you must return and claim your place as king. You are Lord Erdal Bu’Rak Urquiorra IV, son of Lord Bu’Rak Rezan Urquiorra. You are the last in the bloodline of the ancient Urquiorra clan, and true heir and successor to the throne.
I would advise you to look for me as soon as you can. I will be waiting. You will likely find me living in an old abode in the valley.
Yours Truly,
Ornek Zorlu
Royal Guardian, 2268
Erdal stared at the note. His head reeled as he read it again. The note was over a century old. His chest constricted and he felt a lump in his throat. If what the note said were true, then King Zutaar was the invader who had assassinated his parents. A vision flashed through his mind...
He saw the bodies of the man and woman lying in a pool of blood, the old man who stealthily whisked him away from the invaders that night... It all came back in a rush as burning pain throbbed against his temples. The dreams that had haunted him were actually memories. He shuddered, taking a deep breath.
“Are you alright?” she asked him as she watched his face grow pale.
“I remember now... I remember everything,” he said darkly. His emerald eyes blazed with a fiery determination.
Chapter Nine
“You should go back,” Natalie said quietly.
It was late afternoon and she was five months pregnant. She sat by the window, sipping tea. She gazed at Erdal as he sprawled on the sofa near the fireplace, quickly tapping away at the holographic screens in front of him. It had been three months since they had found the scroll. Erdal had healed quickly, much more so than a human usually would. She saw a change in him. He had a quiet determination about him and he worked with amazing speed. He had been searching for Ornek for months, but they still couldn’t trace him. Ornek was alive, that much Erdal was sure of. Yet, he couldn’t locate him. The ‘valley’ was his only lead, but Estion was massive. A great mountain range stretched far across the planet and many villages had sprung up along the range.
He didn’t look up for a while, but finally he said, “I need to find his exact location, Natalie. I can’t go back without his help.”
In the short time that she had lived with him there, she could feel the anger consuming him. She felt it seething under his cool demeanor. It was intimidating at times, and she knew he wouldn’t rest until he had killed King Zutaar.
“Even if you don’t find him, you should go on your own. You should claim your rightful place as king,” she said cautiously, not certain how he would react. “Find a way...”
She still didn’t know him well. He loved her like anything, and if needed, he would lay down his life for her. But he was a tortured soul. A man fighting his own demons... She would always feel a tug in her heart when she saw the turmoil in his eyes. She had once found him alone, tears streaming down his face as sobs racked his body. He didn’t know she was there. In that moment, feeling helpless, her stomach had twisted and she felt a tug in her heart.
“I’m trying, Natalie,” he said, in a cold voice that made her shudder. He wasn’t mad at her. She understood him that well because she had fallen for him. Yet, it hurt her to see him in such a way.
Natalie knew he would find Ornek. Her instincts told her that. But she also knew he was hesitant. It has been a long time since his kingdom had been taken, and many of his people thought he was dead. They had been lucky up until now that the king’s mercenaries hadn’t found them. They were still lurking out there, looking.
***
Later that night, Erdal came into the bedroom as she sprawled on the bed.
“I have found an address,” he said, a strange gleam lighting his eyes as he lay next to her. “I’m guessing he’ll be there.”
“That’s great,” she said, smiling up at him.
“I’ll leave tomorrow morning. The place is quite far off and I’ll be gone a few days. I’m sorry I have to leave you alone here,” he said, as he gazed deep into her eyes. She saw genuine concern there.
“I’ll be okay,” she said with a sad smile as he pulled her into his arms and kissed her deeply.
***
The next morning, Erdal left in his car to look for his guardian. He kissed Natalie one last time, holding her close. “Stay indoors and lock up. Keep safe. I’ll come back for you,” he said, as he lightly touched her belly – she was just beginning to show. “And take care of our little one too,” he said, a shy smile curling the corners of his lips. She thought he looked like a young boy. He wore a dark shirt and pants, his long, dark cloak flapping about his ankles. He hopped in the car and flew off.
Thoughts raced through his mind as he rushed toward his destination over the mountains and trees far beyond the horizon. Night was closing in when he reached the village. The two moons were rising in the sky. It didn’t take him long to find the place. The remote village wasn’t very crowded as it had only a few houses constructed upon the hill. He pulled the hood of his cloak over his head as he approached the house. A lone lamp hung near the door, its dim blue light only bright enough for one to see their way to the door. He knocked twice and waited. The door creaked opened and an old man with silver-white hair stood there. He wore ancient robes, the kind he had worn when he was a child.
“I am here to see Ornek Zorlu. He formerly served as Royal Guard to King Bu’Rak Rezan Urquiorra,” Erdal said. He was careful, as he wanted to be sure and didn’t want to raise any suspicion.
Ornek gazed at the hooded man at the door for a while.
“Young man, tell me your purpose. Why do you want to see him?” Ornek played along, stepping cautiously.
“Because he told me to come,” Erdal said. He saw the light shift in the gray eyes of the old man. He had a strong feeling that this was the man. It was a distant memory, but it was true. The man had aged but his eyes were the same.
“Erdal,” the old man whispered, incredulous. “My lord, I never thought I would see you again.” He bowed slig
htly in respect, and when he looked up there were tears in his eyes.
“Ornek,” Erdal said gently, as he showed him the Erasmeth. “You gave this to me a long time ago.”
“Come on in,” Ornek said, motioning for him to enter. “It’s not safe out here.”
Erdal stepped inside and threw back his hood. The house was sparsely decorated but clean. The west wall was lined with books and two old chairs and a table were placed in its center. The east wall was windowed with a table standing underneath. Ornek poured wine into two glasses and handed Erdal one, gesturing for him to sit.
“Thank you,” Erdal said, taking the glass. “I see you are alone.”
“Yes, my lord,” the old man said. “My wife died long ago and my daughter lives far away with her husband.” Erdal pulled out the scroll from the Erasmeth and handed it to the old man. Ornek recognized his own hand and, when he looked up, tears sprang to his eyes. He told Erdal of how he had served his father, the true king, for centuries until that one fateful night. Erdal told him all. Everything – who he was and what he had become.
“Ornek... I don’t know who I am, and I may not be the same man,” Erdal said pensively as he sipped his wine. “I have killed and abducted women for Zutaar. I didn’t even know the scroll existed until Natalie found it.” He took another swig. “I’ve been on the run. Natalie and I are hiding in a cabin house in the mountains. But now I want Zutaar dead.”
Ornek gazed at him for a long time and his eyes softened. He saw the little boy who had grown into a warrior – a man who had endured all and survived. He was a warrior who hid his tormented soul behind the harsh exterior of an assassin.
“Natalie... Your mate?” Ornek inquired, raising a brow.
“Yes, my mate and fiancée,” Erdal replied. “She was the one who told me to claim my rightful place.”
“And she’s right,” the old man said softly. “How is she?”
